


A Little Warmth To Make You Better

by RiceGrainsAndRoses



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Couch Cuddles, Delirious!Jim, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Sick!Jim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 01:13:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiceGrainsAndRoses/pseuds/RiceGrainsAndRoses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sick Moriarty can be a handful, but he can also be pretty sweet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Warmth To Make You Better

“I'm dying..” , Jim whispered dramatically, eyes wide and glued to the ceiling like the hand of God was beckoning him to a place he'd never be allowed. You scoffed and rolled your eyes as you poured out a bit of cough medicine into the bottle's pre-measured cup. Jim truly was a drama queen. Maybe even more so than Sherlock. It would be hilarious to see them try to out-drama each other, you thought to yourself with a chuckle. “Oi! What 're you laughing at over there?” he questioned, his stuffed up nose making his normally sexy voice come out as strangled. You sighed heavily and stepped over to him, forcing the cup of cough syrup into his face. 

“Nothing, now drink.” , you ordered. He raised his dark brows at you a moment before taking the cup and downing it's contents in one swallow. Immediately his face soured and he began to cough and hack as the taste of the liquid finally hit him. “-Water-NOW!” , he barked, gasping and choking for air. 

“God, you're so needy.” , you groaned as you made your way into the kitchen to get his water, not bothering to hurry. You knew most of what he was doing was for show; he was just trying to gain sympathy. Well, it wasn't working on you so far, and you didn't think it would. You never were much for whining, and listening to other people whine, particularly Jim, got on your nerves severely. And this didn't mean that you were heartless. No, there was a fine line between telling someone your problems-and whining. And you could spot that line from a mile away. 

Returning to Jim, you handed him his glass of water and he took it quickly, his face now a faint purple. Maybe he really did need the water. Hmm. 

“You! Are HEARTLESS!” , he bellowed after setting his glass down. You grinned at the incredulous look on his face, the beads of fever-sweat on his forehead, his eyes wide in disbelief that YOU, his SERVANT/PET were not treating him as if he were king. 

“Ooh, you're one to talk!” , you smiled as you fell into your chair next to the couch, or his 'deathbed' as he liked to call it. “Listen, how much longer do I have to stay? I've been here for hours and if I have to listen to you whine for one more minute I might just kill you.” , you said, quite bored. This earned you a glare. 

“Careful, pet, about how comfortable you get. I can have you taken care of in the blink of an....ahh..ah..CHOO!” , he sneezed into his blanket before settling back down against his pillows, a look of utter defeat on his reddened face. “Ah sod it. I don't have the energy for that kind of conversation right now.” , he said tiredly. You merely shook your head and stood as you gathered your things to leave. Just as you were opening the door, Moriarty's thick voice drifted over from the living room. 

“Wait, ____.. Do you think you could just stay with me until I fall asleep? You know...in case I need anything?” 

As much as you hated his whining, this last plea managed to pull you back into the living room and onto the couch beside him with a sigh. He smiled at you warmly then and the very sight hurt your heart. You weren't sure if it was genuine-you could never be sure with Jim- but it was still a sweet thing to see. As you sat there with him on his big couch, watching some ridiculous movie that neither of you were the least bit interested in, you came to a realization. 

How lonely must Jim be? Day in and day out, he was more or less alone. Yes, he usually forced people to stay within his presence, but truly, on the inside, Jim was alone. He had no friends, no family. The only person that he seemed to have anything in common with was Sherlock Holmes and they didn't seem exactly close to friendship. He had literally no one. He could talk a big game, but you knew deep down that part of his reckless behavior and 'changeability' , was because he didn't really have a reason to hang around. The only reason he was still around, you supposed, was because Sherlock was still kicking. 

You looked at him then, really looked at him, and seemed to see him for the first time. Every line and wrinkle in his face looked different. Every look held a new meaning now. He wasn't Jim Moriarty- The King, The God, anymore. He was just Jim, at his core, a fragile, close-to-broken human being. And this very thought broke your heart. 

“...What is it?” , he finally asked after a moment of watching you watch him. You shook your head very slowly, a sadness welling within you that you knew he wouldn't understand, or would pretend not to anyway. 

“Nothing...It's nothing.” , you whispered, looking away as your eyes threatened to spill tears. He watched you curiously for a bit longer before turning his attention back to the movie. 

Some time later, just as you were starting to doze off, you became aware of Jim shifting uncomfortably next to you. With an annoyed sigh, Jim scooted closer until he was right at your side and leaned against you until he was almost nuzzling your neck. You went completely still as he cuddled into you before he took the blanket that was originally across his lap and wrapped it around the both of you. Still completely shocked at this closeness you didn't say a word until you felt his arms around you and heard his hum of contentment. 

“Uh...Jim? What's up?” , you asked carefully. He shrugged and pulled you closer. 

“Was cold..You're really warm...And soft...” , he murmured as his hand moved down your arm to your wrist where he made small circles with the pads of fingers. You just nodded, still not comprehending what was going on. Was he delirious? Most likely. 

“And...I'm not alone you know..” , he whispered after a moment of awkward silence. You hummed in response as you relaxed into his embrace.

“I have myself. I've survived on it my entire life. And..” , he paused to look you in the eyes, “I have you.” 

You blinked in response, becoming more tired with each passing second. Did he just say what you thought he said? You were about to ask him what he meant but before you knew it, you were falling asleep in his arms. 

“That's alright..You get some sleep.” , he whispered before placing a soft kiss to your forehead. He pulled you onto his chest and laid back on the couch fully, wrapping the blanket around the both of you once more before falling into a peaceful sleep. In that moment, he knew he wasn't alone anymore. But something in the back of his mind told him that when he woke, well rested and better, he would not remember the tender moment the two of you shared. 

And he never did.


End file.
